Pretender's Game

by Louise Clark

  *

  Thea slept late that morning. As had become her custom, she drank a cup of tea and ate a slice of dry toast before rising to help tame the nausea that always returned when she awoke. Cradling the teacup in her hands, she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and feeling a contented lassitude that had carried over from the night before.

  The previous evening she had been preoccupied, worrying about James dueling with Williams, regretting the argument they’d had the day before, wondering if she should have told him of the baby, and all the while fighting the nausea that was constantly with her now.

  At least she could do something about the nausea for she had found that relaxing in a hot tub eased her physical distress, at least for a time, and she had begun to indulge in a nightly bath before retiring. Last evening she had been later than usual, for she had spent too much time sitting in the parlor, fretting over what she could not change, before retiring to her bedchamber. Then too, she had waited for James; for he had gone out and she had hoped to see him before she went up for the night. But James did not return, and finally she gave in to fatigue and sickness and retreated to her chamber and the luxury of a hot bath.

  The water had turned her skin pink when she dipped her toe in to test it. Thea firmly placed her foot, then the rest of her, into the tub. The warmth surrounded her, soothing her ills immediately. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  That was how James had found her a quarter of an hour later. She was lying with her head thrown back, exposing the creamy line of her slender neck. Slowly, she opened her eyes when he said her name, and smiled with welcoming pleasure.

  He was standing just inside her doorway, watching her. “I just came in. You left a message with the butler that you wanted to speak to me.”

  “I had hoped to see you before I went to sleep tonight.”

  At that, he smiled and advanced toward her. “I am at your service, madam wife.”

  He was dressed in the opulent costume of a Highland chief, a dark velvet jacket, tartan sash, finely woven kilt, and jeweled sporran. There were diamonds in the lace at his throat and in the buckles on his shoes. His wig was powdered snowy white and the lace at his wrists and throat was exquisitely made.

  The clothes were a defiant gesture in a town where Highlanders were not always welcomed. “You challenged Williams tonight,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, not tonight.”

  Though he denied her statement, Thea could see a glitter of elation in his eyes that worried her.

  He knelt by the tub, caught a stray lock of her golden hair, then wrapped it around one finger. “You are very beautiful,” he said huskily.

  Under his caressing gaze, she began to breath quickly, the rise and fall of her chest displaying a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts where they rose above the water. She blushed. “If you will ring for the maid I will dress as quickly as possible, then we can talk.”

  He grinned at her, a carefree, fly-away grin that knotted Thea’s stomach with sexual tension. “Why do you need a maid, my lady wife, when I am already here?”

  Slowly, Thea rose from the tub, water sliding off her in sensual rivulets. She was very much aware of her husband’s eyes upon her and of the picture she made for him. “Would you dry me, please?” She wondered if he could see the pulse pounding in her throat, or if he noticed that her nipples had puckered with anticipation.

  “With pleasure,” he said huskily, picking up a linen towel, but he kissed her first.

  A long minute later, Thea pulled away. A little breathlessly she said, “James, stop! I’m leaving marks on your beautiful coat—”

  He released her long enough to remove his velvet jacket and the damask waistcoat beneath and toss both onto the floor. Then he caught her close again and kissed her, more thoroughly than before.

  Thea responded to his passion. She kissed him hungrily, stepping out of the tub so that she could move closer to him. James lifted her, cradling her gently in his arms as he took her over to the bed. He dropped little nibbling kisses on the side of her mouth, teasing and tempting her. When he placed her on the bed, Thea caught his shoulders to draw him down with her.

  He kicked off his shoes, then settled beside her. She looked up at him, smiling. “When you come to me, all I can see is you, James MacLonan. You make me forget all that concerns me.”

  Touching her lips with the tip of his finger, he traced their shape. Thea’s tongue crept out and caressed his finger. James bent, and they kissed with tenderness and hunger. Fumbling slightly, she slid her hands beneath the kilt to stroke his hard thigh. James deepened his kiss, demanding more. Thea sighed and pressed herself close.

  The linen of his shirt was very fine. Thea ran her fingers over it, then pushed it up so that she could stroke his skin. He pulled his mouth away, breathing heavily. Taking her hands, he kissed first one and then the other, before he slipped from the bed to completely remove his kilt and stockings. He tugged his neckcloth free and tossed it on the floor with the rest, then pulled the fine linen skirt over his head and dropped it, too.

  For a moment he stood watching her. She knelt on the bed, her breasts high, the nipples peaked proudly, and reached for him. He came to her gladly.

  They kissed again, then he eased her onto her back. “I had no idea,” he murmured, tasting her ear, “that when I wed I would find a woman as passionate and loving as you, Thea MacLonan.”

  She arched against him. “My fire is for you alone, James.”

  “I know, but I am greedy, Thea.” He entered her slowly, teasingly. “I want all of you. I want your fire. I want your passion. I want your heart.”

  She had closed her eyes as pleasure washed over her, but at that she opened them to look into his. She smiled. “You have what you desire, James. It is yours. I gave it to you freely, long ago.”

  His thrusts quickened. She cried out his name and he kissed her hard. Then she was melting as she felt her husband reach his own release. He held her in his arms, stroking her hair, and for a time she felt free of all the cares that beset her. In the midst of their passion, she had accepted that she had truly fallen in love with her husband.

  She hadn’t loved him when she married him. She had liked him, she had desired him, she had respected him, but she hadn’t loved him. It was when they lived together, and she learned more of him, that she had fallen in love with him, despite her promise to herself that she would never do so. But tonight, when he’d asked her to give him her heart, she had realized that she had already offered it to him, without ever putting the emotion into words. It was only now, with the future in doubt, that she was able to admit her love for him.

  James slept, and eventually Thea did as well, although her worries and concerns tarnished her dreams. He woke her sometime in the night, and made love to her again, swiftly, but with no lessening of his passionate demand. She responded, and when they had done, he murmured, “My wife, my sweet wife. I cannot imagine a love any greater than my love for you. Your passion inspires me.”

  Surprised out of her lazy haze, Thea looked at him questioningly. He smiled and kissed her, then stretched on his back and settled her so that her head was on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. She fell asleep listening to the steady beating of his heart.

  When she woke, he was gone.

  Aware that she had slept late, she finished her tea and dry toast, then dressed and went downstairs.

  She found Grant MacLonan in the parlor. He was preoccupied when she entered, but smiled brightly at her and engaged her in light, mindless conversation that centered around subjects like the weather. Until Grant had talked to her about wind changes, rain, and the possibility of snow, Thea had no idea that anyone could spend fifteen minutes discussing such a trivial subject when important, life-changing events were quite possibly occurring at that very moment.

  Finally, she said impatiently, “Grant, was the duel this morning?”

  He looked guilty, but nonetheless tried to avoid admitting anything. “A
duel? My dear, what in the heavens are you talking about?”

  Thea pursed her lips. Her expression was mildly chastening. “My dear Grant, would you have me believe that my husband has lied to me? James mentioned to me that he planned to challenge Lieutenant Williams. I expected the duel to take place quite soon. Was it this morning?”

  Grant shot her a dubious look that almost made Thea laugh. Duels were the prerogative of men. Women were not supposed to discuss such bloodthirsty sport, even if they were aware that one was occurring. Clearly, Grant MacLonan was not prepared for his daughter-by-marriage to bring up the subject.

  “I did not know that James mentioned he had found Williams and challenged him.”

  “James knows that I would prefer the lieutenant to be punished by the authorities, but he also knows that I support him in all things.”

  Grant thought that over, and apparently decided that he might as well confide in Thea.

  “It was this morning, at six of the clock.”

  “Six!” Thea thought about the previous night, and realized that after the second time James made love to her, he must have risen from their bed to leave for the duel. The thought frightened her and warmed her at the same time. She glanced at the ormolu clock that adorned a pedestal table against one wall. “But it is now ten o’clock. The men should have returned long since.”

  Grant shook his head. “I do not like this delay. I fear that something has gone wrong—”

  The sound of voices interrupted him. He frowned.

  “What is it?” Thea heard her voice, pitched higher than normal, expressing the fear she refused to acknowledge.

  Grant stood slowly, pushing himself up by the arm of the chair. “Ramsey,” he said curtly, turning to face the doorway.

  Brendon Ramsey marched heavily into the room with Lord Staverton prowling behind him, looking as put out as a stalking cat that had just lost its prey. Thea’s fears instantly flared into full-blown terror.

  “‘Where is James?” she demanded shrilly, leaping to her feet.

  The men looked at each other, a conspiracy of silence clearly their intention.

  Thea stamped her foot in an unusual exhibition of temper. “Do not shut me out, gentlemen! James is my husband and whether you like it or not, I may be able to help if he is in trouble.”

  Brendon sighed heavily. “‘Tis trouble he is in, Thea. Harris has arrested him and thrown him into the Tolbooth Prison.”

  Thea knew about the Tolbooth. She’d lived in Edinburgh for three years, and had found the old prison a much more brooding presence over the city than the famed Castle. The tales of the place were fearsome, but most of the residents of Edinburgh didn’t worry overmuch about the prison, for it was rarely used nowadays. As she thought of James locked in the Tolbooth, her legs suddenly gave out and she sank into a chair.

  It was Grant who spoke. “Why was he put into the Tolbooth?”

  “For the attempted murder of Lieutenant Williams,” Staverton said flatly.

  “Is Williams likely to die?” Grant demanded.

  Staverton shrugged. “The surgeon had great hopes that he would recover, but Harris refused to accept the diagnosis.”

  “A magistrate will soon release James, or see that he is housed elsewhere,” Grant said optimistically.

  “James is not to be brought before a magistrate,” Brendon said bleakly. “Harris is calling this a military case, as it is one of his officers who is injured.”

  Grant’s blue eyes flashed. “But the injury occurred as the result of a duel!”

  “Harris refuses to accept that it is a civil matter.” Brendon shrugged. “We have been arguing about it for the past hour. Nothing I could say would move him.”

  “Of course it would not,” Thea said. She was staring into the fire, hearing the men’s words, but seeing James locked in a dark, dirty cell. “Harris has found his opportunity to humiliate James for stealing me from him.”

  “There is more to it than that,” Staverton said.

  Thea looked up. “I know that. Harris would never dare to imprison James unless he felt that the orders he’d received from London would provide him with a good excuse. But I do not doubt that he enjoyed being able to lock my husband away in some dank cell for a time.”

  “He did look rather pleased with himself,” Staverton muttered. He cocked a brow. “What do you think, Ramsey, can we use his motives to force him to allow James to be released into your custody?”

  Brendon rubbed his chin. Then with a sigh, he shook his head. “If it had been you who James walked with to his horse, I might have been able to arrange it, but Harris will only say that I am not to be trusted—”

  Grant interjected, “Why would Harris not trust you, Ramsey? You’ve a fine standing in the community.”

  “Because young James used me as a cover when he decided to try to escape. I went along to try to talk him out of it, but to no avail. Harris’s men fired on him and—”

  “They shot at James? Is he all right?”

  “Yes, dear child, he is,” Brendon said gently, coming over to clasp Thea’s hand. “He has a slight scratch from the duel, but that is all.”

  “He is injured?”

  Brendon patted her hand reassuringly. “The surgeon cleaned the wound before James left the field. He pronounced it a mere scratch and nothing to worry about.”

  Jerking her hand away, Thea put it to her cheek. “Nevertheless, James cannot be allowed to stay in prison! Mr. Ramsey, Grant, you must do something!”

  “As I said, I could not get James released into my custody, and when I suggested he be released into his father’s care, Harris had the effrontery to laugh! He said there was nobody in Edinburgh untouched by Grant MacLonan’s money or my connections whom he would turn James over to.”

  “The conceit of the man!” Grant said fiercely. “Does he think that someone like Judge Denholm could be corrupted by money or influence?”

  Brendon shrugged.

  Staverton said grimly, “Harris is using excuses. He wants James locked up in prison, well away from the danger of meeting up with the Pretender. James is a man with a grievance, a legitimate grievance. If the Prince were able to win him over, together they could set the Highlands aflame once more.”

  “You are wrong, Staverton,” Grant said softly. “The Highlands will never rise again.”

  Staverton held his hands out. “I do not disagree, MacLonan. But I am not Colonel Harris, an incompetent officer sitting on top of what he thinks might be an explosive situation. He’s worried, so he is using every power he possesses to make sure that he is safe.”

  “Despite what both of you think I believe that it is worth our while to make use of what influence we possess and to try to enlist the aid of members of the government,” Grant said, his expression bleak.

  “It can’t hurt, although I doubt it will do any good. Harris is adamant.”

  “There is one person Colonel Harris would have to agree to tum James over to,” Thea said slowly.

  Brendon looked skeptical. “I doubt it, my dear. I do not like to dash your hopes, but I fear there is no one.”

  Thea smiled thinly. “Yes, there is. My father.”

  It was Staverton who broke the silence that followed. He laughed. “God’s teeth, we are all fools! Mrs. MacLonan is right. Harris could not refuse to release James into the custody of General Sir Frederick Tilton. My congratulations, ma’am. Your suggestion is brilliant.”

  Brendon rubbed his chin. “There is a drawback. Tilton is in London. It will be days before a messenger gets to him, and an equal amount of time before he can present himself here to take custody of James.”

  “Then I had better write to him immediately,” Thea said, standing up decisively. “I want James out of prison as soon as possible. Gentlemen, I will leave you to your plotting.”

  Chapter 18

  A fortnight passed. Thea fretted, worried about James, and dreamed of their reunion. The messenger who had carried her letter down to Lo
ndon returned with a short note from Lady Tilton, decrying the infamy of what had happened and advising Thea that her father would be in Edinburgh as quickly as he could manage. Lord Staverton visited to tell Thea and Grant that he was returning to London to see what he could do there. Thea urged him to visit her father and add his requests to hers. With a curt nod, the viscount agreed to do so and departed.

  But General Sir Frederick Tilton did not arrive, and Thea was soon desperate. She knew that the cell James was housed in was a horrible place, for Brendon Ramsey had managed to visit him and had returned to Grant’s house looking grim. This made Thea worry about the wound James had received during the duel, whether it was healing properly and if James was in any pain from it. She guessed that he must be imagining the worst, that he was a pawn in a chess game played by a mad prince and a ruthless government determined to stay in power. For James, the outcome would not matter, for pawns rarely survived to the end of the game.

  Thea did her best to try to let James know that he had not been abandoned by his friends and family. Every day since his incarceration she had made up a picnic basket full of his favorite foods, then walked over to the prison, where she delivered the basket into the hands of a warder, along with a few coins, and the request that it be given to her husband.

  When she first started this, Grant MacLonan protested that the Tolbooth was no place for a lady to go. Thea’s reply was painfully simple. The Tolbooth was no place for a gentleman to be incarcerated. Grant had bowed his head, then with a sigh, suggested that she send one of the footmen with the basket. Thea was tempted, but she could not allow herself to give in. James was in the filthy prison because of her. The least she could do was to bring his meals to him herself.

  After the surgeon brought the good news that Williams was recovering nicely and would soon be on his feet, Grant MacLonan and Brendon Ramsey renewed their efforts to have James freed by working through political and legal channels, but neither found any success. While the Pretender was loose, his location unknown, the English garrison in Scotland was on the alert. Colonel Harris had every right to imprison anyone he thought might be a danger.